Mustang Moon
by Diamonds.Rio.Grande
Summary: Darcy desides she's up to the challenge of capturing one of her free-ranging mustangs; but that's awfully hard to do when there's a rogue stallion on the loose, trying to take the horse for himself. When he succeeds, its up to Darcy to get her horse back


**Yeah! I'm onto the second book now! Though this fic is going to take more planning and thinking than the last one did…o.o that's not gonna be easy…**

**Anyhow, I'd like to thank everybody who has reviewed for The Wild One, particularily Sora-Oathkeeper-Oblivion, and wildfirexpassion, who didn't miss reviewing a chapter. Thanks so much!**

**Oh! And by the way, anybody starting to read this, you may want to go back and read the first instalment of this series, The Wild One. It'll help answer a lot of questions that may come up if reading this first.**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom Stallion series

**Part One: Stallion of the Night**

The ashen quarter moon hung high in the sky, drifting clouds pushed by a cool breeze, the promise of autumn on its way. In the dim light, I could just make out the shape of Dalton, my horse, alone in the pasture for the night.

Gone was his good buddy Jessie, gone was my brother. Just another rodeo season for them, while Dalton and me were left to fend for ourselves.

I slipped on my old running shoes, feeling a shiver race down my spine that didn't completely have to do with the soles of the shoes being cold. I was sneaking out in the middle of the night, to see Dalton, and if I felt the daringness, to see the mustangs that roamed free along our open and vast ranch. Right there was the beauty of living by yourself at only sixteen.

I slipped of the back porch, trying to fight the slight anxiousness that crept up in my veins. It was just the dark. Nobody was out there, animal or human. I was perfectly safe.

Still, in all of my life, I never had been completely comfortable at being out in the dark all by myself without it being a full moon.

And this one was waning, nearly just a little sliver in the sky. Not long until a new moon now.

I found my way to the pasture fence, leaning against it to watch the big paint within. Black and white, I found that even with the white patches that usually stood out like a light in the dark, were hard to see. His black legs seemed to blend into the darkness, making it seem like he only had one little scrap of a pale limb.

"Hey buddy." I whispered softly.

There was something else that was bothering me. I felt eyes on me, somewhere in the night. I whirled around to face the house red and yellow brick farmhouse. Dark windows, just as I had left them. I was just imagining things.

Still, in the dark of the house, it would be easy for someone to hide. Or outside. In this darkness, I could easily be ambushed without knowing it.

_Relax. _

Just a mile or so down the road was Three Ponies Ranch, where the Ely's lived. I thought of all the tall, big Ely brothers that lived there. When it came to protection, I'd have no worries there.

But my sense of relief was short lived. Dalton put his head up, instantly tense. A whicker rumbled from his body and out into the stillness of the night.

Something _was _out there.

And as the moon shrugged free of a wispy cloud, I saw the horse that kept us company.

At first I thought it was one of my mustangs, broken loose and come to explore. That made my heart race. A herd of untamed mustangs loose…

The horse was thickly built. In this light, the colour was unidentifiable. I could make out the line of a short back, a wide, chunky neck, and a blocky head.

The mystery horse was standing just outside Dalton's little paddock, on the far side. They snaked their head, thick mane falling to one side. I didn't recognise the horse at all, so it couldn't have been one of the adopted horses. Its nicker was deep, but challenging and dominant.

Bad mistake with Dalton. I had a flash back of the cattle drive in the early summer. Slocum, the greedy and rich neighbour who owned the frivolous Gold Dust Ranch, had been chasing the grey stallion known as the Phantom across the high desert. Dalton had thrown himself at he end of the lead, screaming his dare to the running horses.

This time, he seemed to behave himself more.

He felt threatened, it was obvious by the way he stiffened his shoulders and trotted on smooth yet rigid legs over to the other horse, his head low as he assessed the new comer.

He stopped short just of the blocky beast, who puffed his chest and shook his head again. Dalton raised his head, until his neck went from a low, curving arch to a tightly coiled one. At this point, it didn't take much to realise the mystery horses was a stallion, or male in the least.

Dalton stepped forward meaningfully, keeping direct eye contact with the horse. With a snort, he reached his head over to sniff noses with the loose horse.

Even though I expected it, the deafening squeal of rage that rang out and the sound of hoof on board made me jump unpleasantly.

I quickly pieced it together as Dalton charged along the fence, following every move of the dark figure on the other side. The mystery horse had struck out at the fence, and Dalton had squealed, ramming his chest into the boards at the other's oppose.

"Smarten up you guys." I muttered, climbing over the fence in one easy swing.

The stallion saw me, and regarded my quick and unpleased strides almost cockily. He gave a snort, watching me for a moment, before turning away.

"Yeah, you better run." I said lowly again, not slowing. I wasn't really mad, I just didn't want him and Dalton fighting over the fence. He was a nuisance, and I'd have to deal with it.

Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he spoke to me in the language of horses, telling me I wasn't driving him out of here, and that he was leaving on his own terms. And that, would be a problem, because that meant he'd be back to cause more trouble. And that he wasn't afraid of me.

I stopped just short of the fence, hands on my hips, lips pressed in a straight line.

Melting off into the night, the other horse was gone, though Dalton paced angrily, long after the other horse stole away.

XxXxX

"You saw him too?" Sam Forster stood beside me, sharp eyebrows raised.

I nodded, arms folded along the fence. At the moment, I was basking in the sun at River Bend, her ranch. Beside me, Jake Ely had his hat tipped low over his face, a small smile cast upon his face as he listened to us.

"If he was bold and fearless of humans, that was the same one." I gazed at the horses grazing on the sparse late summer grass before us, at peace. For now.

"Yeah, he seemed to just say, 'Catch me if you can'." Sam said, her short hair bobbing as she nodded.

"Now you've got two horses talkin' to you, huh Brat?" Jake said, the smile gone, but amusement traced his feature. A cowboy if there ever was one, he rarely smiled or spoke, or showed all that much emotion, for that matter.

Quite contrary to Sam, who used the emotion of a normal person, except when she was talking about horses, especially mustangs. And now was one of those times. I had my lazy, cowgirl laid back moments, but when I was the most lively, it was when I was fired up and angry, or passionate.

Sam pointed to the field, shaking her head. "Three. You forgot Ace."

At her words, the little bay lifted his head, tiny bits of grass falling from his lips. He made to move towards her, but the strawberry roan known as Strawberry lunged at him, chasing him away with flattened ears and barred teeth before he could take more than three steps.

Coming in from the other side, Banjo, a big bay, launched a warning kick in his direction.

"Knock it off!" Sam waved her hands and stood up on the fence, leaning over angrily.

As if that was going to stop them in the least.

Strawberry and Banjo gave her an unconcerned glance, and went back to scavenging for grass.

"Ace, come here boy." Sam said, extending her hand to him, but he hung back, not ready to sink down to taking human company, though the other horses so diligently bullied him.

Ace, run while you can.

"I wish Ace could tell us why the other horses pick on him. They're just evil." Sam said.

I snorted, turning my head a fraction to look at her, annoyed at her utter ignorance. "That's ridiculous."

Jake nodded, aggravated. "They're not evil. Animals have a pecking order. Somebody's the boss and somebody's at the bottom. With these guys, Ace is the outsider."

Sam had spent two years in San Francisco, and the first day I met her, on the spring cattle drive, had been the first week she was home. I understood it was hard for her to except the ways of a ranch again, but when she said things like that, it drove me and Jake both to near insanity.

"Ace looks like he might have lost a little flesh." Jake looked over the mustang. "Beyond the normal cuts and kicks, he's showing ribs. That means they're not letting him eat. I think we better talk to your dad."

The sound of boots on dirt came from behind us. "Don't need to. I've been watching him myself."

Of course. If he hadn't been, what kind of rancher would he be?

I turned my attention back to the field. Of the bunch, my eyes always fell on Strawberry and Banjo. Both Quarter horses, they were built like tanks, true to the breed. Though the big ex-race Quarter racehorse who's name slipped my mind was pretty, Strawberry's attractive roan colour and Banjo's smooth shade of bay always won me over. Not that it mattered. None of these horses were mine, but it still didn't stop me from always sizing them up.

And, I had a whole herd of mustangs at home to choose from.

Not that I liked mustangs over Quarter horses, but comparing the two were like comparing apples and oranges. Quarter horses were well bred, well built horses, pure-breds and reliable, with their own long list of integrity and benefits. But mustangs were tough and wise, full of spirit and attitude, a picture of freedom. I liked to have the best of both worlds, which I why I took advantage of Jessie, a Quarter horse, and Dalton, a registered paint.

Still, they idea of a horse being mine and mine alone was exciting. Back home, when I lived in Texas, I had my own horses, but they were usually used otherwise by somebody else, say my parents, or one of Seth's old horses. Nobody had ever bought me a brand new horse that was mine from the start to finish, because we always had plenty of other horse around for me to use. Yet Seth, a rodeo star even at a young age, got the best horses, loaded with potential, because of how far he went in competition.

I, on the other hand, had competed on a horse we had already owned. Say my mom's horse, or my dad's old horse, or a horse for Seth that never quite suited him or his needs, but we never did sell.

In a way, I had taken that all for granted. Because after my parents' death, every horse but Dalton and Jessie had been sold.

"We'll move Ace into the barn pen and try Buddy in here." Wyatt said.

The thought of Buddy, the little heifer, in the field surrounded by horses, made me laugh. Buddy was so friendly, she'd be right up with the horses, looking for a friend. Whether the ranch horses would like her as much as I guessed she'd like them, was a different story all together.

"We'll put another horse in with Ace of course." Jake shot a glance her way.

"Of course." Sam said, and her relief was evident.

"He's your horse Sam. Who does he get along with?" Wyatt asked pointedly.

Sam stretched out her hand, thoughtful. "C'mon, boy." She called to Ace, and the horse drifted towards her.

I closed my eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun, feeling the hot flurry of air on the small of my back, as it lifted my tee shirt up slightly.

The sound of jingling keys made Sam look back towards the white house with the green shutters; I didn't move a muscle, feeling like a lazy cat.

"Oh shoot." She muttered.

This time, I turned to look. It was Sam's grandmother, Grace, ready to head into Darton. I was going with her and Sam to pick out clothes and go back-to-school shopping.

"By the way, Darcy, I've been meaning to ask you something." Wyatt turned to me.

"Yeah?" I rotated my stance on the fence.

"You wanna job here?"

Yes!

But on the outside, I was cool. "Sure. I'd love one."

Wyatt nodded. "Couldn't pay you too much, but I'd be something."

I nodded. "That's great. What would you have me doing?"

"Well, working with some horses with Jake, maybe, helping the cowboys out every now and again." He shrugged. "Odds and ends."

I grinned. "Sounds great to me!"

"Ow!" Sam suddenly shouted, jumping away from the fence.

Ace, running from Strawberry, and slammed into her hand, bending her fingers back.

"I'm okay." She protested, but she was biting the inside of her cheek hard.

Grace hurried along, glaring at Wyatt, even when Sam held out her hand and said, "Just fine, see?"

"You know I love everything that breathes on the ranch- with the exception of that rattle snake I saw in the woodpile, and even he's keeping rats out of the house- but Wyatt, I do _not_ and never will think a mustang makes a good mount for your daughter." Grace lectured.

Why not? What difference _really _does it make? I mean, she could have a paint, like Dalton, who was loopier than any mustang I knew.

"I guess Banjo and Strawberry are out as stable mates." Sam tried to change the subject and ease the tension.

Didn't work.

"I don't know what I was thinking." Wyatt confessed.

"I'm getting used to being ignored." Sam joked.

I was just going to stay out of their family feud.

"You could've broken bones." Wyatt took a deep breath. "You could've fallen off and knocked out you teeth or hit your head like you did last time." He closed his eyes.

They were talking about back in late June, when Sam, aboard Ace, had led the wild stallion she called her 'own' to freedom down the side of the mountain.

Wyatt glanced over at Sam. "I'm mad at myself, not you. I shouldn't have let you do it."

Oh please.

"That's the truth." Grace echoed.

There was a pause, before Wyatt spoke. "That stallion hasn't been around since the BLM caught him, right?"

"No, and it's not like I rode him, even when he did come around." Sam defended.

I knew that the Phantom, as people called him, would come around in the middle of the night, down by the river, and Sam would wait for him there.

Wyatt locked eyes with her. "I'm not saying you wouldn't do it if you thought you could."

Who wouldn't pass up a chance to ride a wild horse if they had one?

I shivered. I sure wouldn't. I did have that chance. That's why, as soon as possible, with the help maybe of Jake, I'd capture one of the mustangs that ran loose on the mustang preserve I had. Not that I needed Jake's help particularly, but it would be good to have someone around. I'd try to 'tame' the horse, right out on the open range, Monty Roberts style. I'd be its friend, its herd member, its safety.

As if to make an addition to the point, Grace said, "Samantha, you better stay in the house tonight."

"I can't-" she began.

"Yes, you can. You'll have homework to keep you busy soon."

Yeah? Soon, in a couple weeks, when school began, not now.

"But I'm a good student, I get my homework done fast, and-"

Wyatt shook his head. "You'll need a full night's sleep to keep up. You're probably thinking Darton High is some little hick school, way behind you're San Francisco classes, but you might be surprised." I hadn't heard Wyatt speak this much at one time before.

Sam let out a sigh, and I could see her distress.

Well, if I were her, I would have snuck out anyway.

Suddenly Sam pointed to the corral, shouting, "Sweetheart!"

The black pinto with the heart on her hip turned to look at us, with all the attention pointed to her.

"Sweetheart would be perfect to put with Ace. She's never bitten or kicked him. have you seen her do it, Jake?"

"Nope." He shook his head.

The tall pinto was cute, with a little star on her forehead, and a long forelock that fell over gentle dark eyes, though the signs of ageing showed around her eyes, where tiny hairs of white could be seen up close.

"In fact," Sam added. "I haven't seen her lash out at the other horses, ever."

"Wyatt schooled that horse to have perfect manners, especially in front of company." Grace said, almost dreamily.

Uh…

You couldn't school a horse to not bully others, could you? It was in its nature of whether or not it was an aggressive horse, or a meek one, like Ace. Unless that was something I had completely missed. And, why did it matter if it was in company or not?

"He gave Sweetheart to me right after he and your mother were married."

The sound of chirping birds and horses hooves filled the awkward silence. I could imagine it was like this every time Sam's dead mother was brought up. That was the way it was whenever I was with Seth, and somebody brought up our parents.

"I don't have time to stand around and gossip. Sam, you move those horses when you get back. Darcy, you can start tomorrow morning." He straightened his hat. "There's work to be done, Jake, unless you're scooting off to town with these girls."

Jake looked almost appalled at the idea. "No sir."

XxXxX

Shopping wasn't always my idea of fun. It could be, if I had the right store, and didn't have to go searching for things. My idea of shopping was walking into a store and having something I absolutely _loved _jump out at me instantly.

Unfortunately, that wasn't usually how it went. Ever.

I was wondering how this shopping trip would go, when Grace broke up my thoughts.

"Samantha?"

Sam didn't say a word, but I could almost here her swallow.

"I won't lock you in your room tonight, but I'm serious about you staying away from that stallion. If I catch you sneaking out, you'll be grounded."

Ooh, grounded, that's serious.

"I mean that literally." She warned.

What, is Sam going to fly off?

"There'll be no riding until you've learned your lesson."

Sam stared out the window, looking distraught. Well, I couldn't help her here. Unless she wanted my expertise on sneaking out.

I'd only been caught sneaking out of anything once in my life.

XxXxX

Nothing had jumped out at me yet, but I had found a pair of new jeans I loved, as well as some shirts, and a bunch of tee shirts that were on sale. They were my kinda tee shirts, with witty sayings and pictures on them.

I was dreading that the town didn't have a tack shop; but it was right in the mall.

_Tully's_, it was called, filled with all the wonderful fairy-dusted (ahaha) things that tack stores have.

Sam was practically drooling over a hand-tooled headstall, and I didn't blame her. It was a light colour of leather, the type in style, with numerous soft, articulate feathers attached.

"Gracious, that's more than we spend on groceries in a month." Grace exclaimed as she came up behind Sam, who was fingering the price tag. "Wouldn't Ace step proud wearing that on his pretty head." she added in a marvelling voice.

Soon enough, we loaded our bags in the back of the Buick, and were headed back home. Good thing too, 'cause I didn't like malls much.

The scenery was all flashing past me. Beautiful Nevada, with its sagebrush, delicate desert flowers, sparse patches of grass, sierra coloured plains. In my mind, I was racing aback a horse, bareback, hands tangled in its mane.

"There's a fine looking band of mustangs." At Grace's words, I stopped staring out the side window and out the front.

I shook my head. I wasn't the soft type to fall into daydreams like that. Besides, I knew all too well there was more to riding and ranch life than galloping aboard a wild horse bareback at break neck speed.

"Oh, look, there on the ridge." She pointed, and I caught sight of the Phantom.

Creamy against the pale blue sky, he stood as his herd drank from a depression in the flat land, out by the pinion trees. Wind rippled his long mane, and that was the only thing I could make out about him, he was so far away. And I wasn't even sure it was him, but judging by Sam's gasp and the knowledge that there weren't many grey stallions in the area, gave me a good idea it was.

Grace pulled off to the side of the road, then turned off the car. She reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

"Oh my, it's him, isn't? Your little lost colt, all grown up." She said.

I couldn't see very clearly, as Grace was the only one with the binoculars, and I could only make out the coloured figures of the horses.

"And who's this, I wonder." She mused.

She passed the binoculars to Sam, who had let out a half strangled groan of frustration.

"I've never been able to focus these silly things." She complained as she adjusted them furiously.

"Take you time." Grace said.

"Oh, come on." She hissed, moving them outwards, then back towards her eyes. "Yeah." She said after a minute, her body slumping with a relaxed sigh.

"The Hammer Head!" she exclaimed, and her whole body became ridged again.

"The what?" I asked, leaning forward (as I was sitting in the back) to stare out the dusty windshield even more adamantly.

"The other horse." She lowered the binoculars. "I've seen him before."

The she turned around to me. "The blue roan."

Blue roan?

Ah, the mystery stallion.

She passed the binoculars. I adjusted them, feeling the strain on my eyes. "Yikes." I muttered under my breath, trying to get them to focus.

When they did, I grimaced.

"Look at that hideous head." I exclaimed. Now I could see him clearly, in the daylight. He had a big head, and was built like a boulder, with a thick, wide neck. He was short backed, and wasn't put together very nicely, just a big chunk.

It was a shame to call him a blue roan, because he wasn't really a true roan. But I didn't see him falling under any other categories.

He lacked the real silver of a roan, and just looked like a faded out blue, dotted with odd bits of white. "Boy is ever an ugly thing." I mused. "He's built like a boulder."

"Whoever he is, he thinks he's pretty hot stuff." She said.

"I'll say." I nodded, handing back over the binoculars. "He and Dalton had a little face off over the fence. He's not scared of people either. I tried chasing him off, but just looked defiant."

The stallion pranced, circling a red dun mare.

She lunged at him, and he quickly used the advantage, cutting her from the herd.

The Phantom was suddenly moving towards, down off his ridge and floating with confidence, as though the other horse was just a pesky fly, or a stray foal.

The chunky horse strutted for the mares, pawing like he was something else, and they should know it. When he charged, though, he snaked his head, viscous and no longer flirty and impressive.

The Phantom moved aside, slipping out of the horse's way at each attempt he made. Finally, he was sick of playing.

The chunker lowered his head as the Phantom planted all four feet, stopping the other horse in his tracks as he gave him a warning.

I couldn't read the exact body language from here, and I didn't know what made the other stallion go, but something did. He turned and sprinted up the hill, dust rising from his solid hooves and thick legs as he vanished from sight.

"They vanish, just like that." Grace snapped her fingers, I was snapped from the attentive hold I had on the horses. "Don't they?"

Even a thick, ungraceful horse such as Chunker could disappear down the mustang paths in a blink of an eye. And there were horses like the Phantom, who seemed to just melt through any obstacle.

I thought of one of the stallions I had adopted from the BLM. When the Phantom had been capture only a short time ago, I had seen up close just what he was like, his temper, and his build. He had reminded very much of the black stallion, who had the same spirit and defiance. I had the feeling he could move with the same stealth and quickness as what gave the Phantom his name.

"I wonder if that was a bachelor stallion, looking to steal mares, or just a young horse trying out his moves." Grace wondered aloud.

"He didn't look young to me." I thought of his tangent with Dalton. "And he seems to be pretty serious, if stealing mares is his goal."

"Yeah, he looked serious alright, but the Phantom didn't." Sam didn't take her eyes of the herd.

"The Phantom. Why do you call him that, even when you, Jake, and Wyatt think he's Blackie?" her grandmother asked.

Because she realised Blackie was an awful name?

"He doesn't look like 'Blackie' anymore." Sam pointed out.

"That's true, but if he were your colt, he wouldn't be the Phantom." Gram said, as though she believed in the legend of the Phantom.

Part of me did, and always would, but the logical side told me it was the flesh-and-blood Phantom.

"He's a beauty." Grace breathed.

"Then won't you let me go out at night and wait for him? He always comes by midnight, and I promise I won't try to ride him, and-"

"Samantha."

Jeez, Sam rode the horse at midnight?

I was the slightest bit jealous, but then I thought of how it was all so cliché. Untouchable wild horse comes to meet girl by river in the middle of the night, undying love flowing between them like the river itself.

Why did it seem so unreal?

"But Gram, if I planned to ride him, I would have tried to get Dad to adopt him." Sam pointed out in a reasonable voice, but I could hear the underline whine. "I wouldn't have encouraged BLM to turn him loose."

Yeah, but I had a feeling Sam thought every horse belonged free. And she _would_ try to ride him, it was all very clear.

"Dear, I know you believe that _now_." Apparently Gram saw through it too. "But if you go out and see that horse every night, if he lets you get close, pet his neck, and maybe he even starts to follow you around, the next natural thing is to try riding him. And you cannot tell me that it isn't exciting to think of riding through the night with the wind in you hair on a mustang stallion no one else can even touch."

And then it struck me.

Always with the _stallions _it was.

"You know I have a soft spot for animals." She continued. "But I have any even softer spot for you. I hope you never have to sit in a hospital waiting room, head in hands, praying a child will live. After that horse threw you and kicked you in the head, I made a vow you'd never ride him again. And I'll keep that promise with the last breath in my body."

Oh.

Please.

What was the problem _with this picture?_

It was _not_ the horse's fault she was hurt. Yes, he threw her, but only because he was scared. That's what happens when you give a _young_ rider a _two-year-old_ colt, a _stud _colt for that matter, and send them out into the wide-open range. The horse gets scared. And of course, Sam was young, and she was obviously scared too.

Secondly, him kicking her in the head was a total fluke. There were always dangers in riding a horse, and that's the risk you take when you do. It was likely to never happen again.

But what really got me, was how they all acted. Like it _was_ Phantom's fault, not at all like the ranchers they were. Wasn't it the saying 'If you fall off a horse, you get right back on'?

But I didn't speak, thank goodness, or it would have been guaranteed that River Bend would never welcome me again.

"Gram, go." Sam said, out of the blue. "Here comes Linc Slocum and I think it would be really bad if he saw the- uh, Blackie."

Because the city slicker, wanna-be cowboy wanted the Phantom all to himself.

Carefully, and with a slowness that made me want to bang my head against the window (I couldn't stand slow drivers) Grace pulled back onto the road after revving the 'Boat' Buick back up.

I watched.

Horses turned, stirred by Phantom's warning, all circling closer in a nervous trot, before he sent them back up into the safety of their hideout in the Calico Mountains, dust swallowing them as the herd disappeared.

The Phantom gave one last look back, one last head shake, and was off with them, racing, quick as a bird, the way he seemed to just lift over rocks and uneven paths, following his herd back to the wild once again.

But back on planet earth here (as it seemed like two different worlds almost) Linc Slocum, in his big fancy Cadillac- hold on. He wasn't actually _in _his Cadillac.

No, he was standing by one of the back tires of the cream coloured vehicle. He waved to us.

_Just turn around and drive away. _

I screamed in my head. But it was the western code of conduct. Help neighbours out. Even Linc Slocum's.

Slocum was tall with a big round belly that strained against his plaid shirt as he crouched down by the tire.

Slocum flashed a bleached-white grin and called across the road to us, "If it ain't my three favourite ladies come to rescue me." He waved a hand at the tire. "This tire keeps on going flat, so I'm checking how much air I have left."

"That tire is not flat." I said under my breath flatly.

But Slocum obviously couldn't hear me, and the stupid, fake grin stayed plastered on his face as he stood and walked across the road to the Buick. Or, the Boat, as I liked to call it.

His spurs jingled.

I fought back a bark of laughter.

Slocum boldly placed his hands on the window's frame and leaned forward, like he'd been friends with Grace his whole life. "Hi there."

_Yes, hello. _I thought irritably. _Now go away, so I can go catch a wild horse in my own backyard. _

"Haven't seen you in a month of Sundays, little ladies." He flashed a grin at Sam, then at me. "How long's it been?"

The same length of time since Nevada stopped talking like that?

Sam shrugged, and I knew she too knew it was better just to not say anything to that unintelligent babble.

Slocum glanced back at his shiny car, and I had a feeling he was here for a nice chat. "It's time to replace that car. I don't like wondering if I can make it all the way home."

I was pretty sure he'd be able to make it home, but what a shame. It was a nice car, and I kind of liked it. But I still found it funny to picture him walking six miles home with his big belly and tight jeans.

"That tire does look low." Grace was being neighbourly, but she sounded as though she would rather walk home herself in the late summer heat than offer Slocum a ride.

Slocum nodded. "If you could follow me back to the ranch just to make sure I get there, I'd be awfully grateful."

"I'd be glad to do that, Linc. Just as long as I get home in time to make supper." Grace said, sounding relieved.

I blew a mouthful of hot air upwards. I really didn't like Slocum.

Though Linc had claimed he was worried about his car, it didn't stop him from breaking the speeding laws. Grace gave up trying to keep up. The Old Boat of a car was at its maximum.

After a spell of silence, Grace chuckled without humour, before saying, "Imagine, replacing a car because its tires are old."

I shook my head angrily to myself. What a fool. It was a good thing Seth hadn't heard about something like that. His old truck was older than him, and it had a million and one problems. But Seth couldn't afford a new one, so he made it hold out one more year, and then another. Filthy rich Slocum, on the other hand…

"We wanted to spend more." Grace said suddenly.

"What?"

"We wanted to spend more on your clothes."

I winced. I wanted to spend more on my clothes too. But with little money to spend on something like that…Seth's income as a rodeo rider wasn't exactly…stable. Or much of an income. He lost more money than he made. And…well, I hadn't even started my job with Wyatt, and he had even warned me it didn't pay much. And that was saying something.

Come to think of it, Seth and rodeo was more of an obsession. It was in Seth's blood, and not even a twist of fate like the death of my parents could pull him down.

Though I missed him when he was gone. And I was pretty certain it was illegal to leave a minor unaccompanied like that. But he was only gone a few days at a time. In fact, he'd be home for my second day of school.

"Don't worry about it Gram, really. I haven't even unpacked all my stuff from Aunt Sue. Besides, clothes aren't a big deal for me."

Sam had gone to live with her Aunt Sue during her two years in San Francisco.

Looking sceptical, Grace said, "When you're starting your first year in high school, clothes are important."

Ah, darn. I had just remembered school now too. I'd have to start all over here, at Darton High. Great.

"There's a darn good reason we're careful with our money." Grace continued. "We won't make much from the fall cattle sales. Drought means sparse grass and that translates to thinner cattle. And, of course, we get paid by the pound."

A rancher's life was hard. They relied solely on the cattle to get them through the year. And when the cattle suffered, so did the ranch.

Grace kept her eyes on the road as she continued, but the darted to Sam to emphasise her points every so often. "And then there's BLM. It takes twenty acres to support a cow and her calf, so we have to use federal land to graze our stock. When they raise grazing fees for every cow who roams on land that's not strictly River Bend-"

She stopped, and sighed. "I'm sorry, honey. It's useless to complain and worse to be angry at Linc Slocum for having money. And Darcy-" she turned to look at me apologetically. "There's no need to worry you about this."

I shrugged. "It's no problem. It's natural to worry about stuff like that." I paused, thinking of our last grocery bill, and how it had made me cringe. I wondered how long the meagre yet expensive stock of food in the fridge would last… I shrugged again.

The Boat slowed as we neared Slocum's ranch. Big, black, ornate gates crossed the driveway, with a metal work galloping horse in the middle of each gate, and the words 'Gold' on one gate, and 'Dust' on the other were welded atop the gates. The guy was seriously loaded.

"I wonder how he made so much money." Sam stared out the windshield, shaking her head.

"Honey, it wouldn't be polite to ask."

"Probably something moffia related, or illegal…" I muttered, and luckily only Sam heard, as she gave a tiny snort.

The gates opened, either by motion sensor or a remote control. And then we were following Slocum in.

His driveway was paved. All along beside it, flowers were planted and well watered. White fencing housed and assorted bunch of horses, grazing upon grass so lush and green it looked like they were standing on a plush carpet.

Black cattle with a white stripe around their middle formed a big herd in another bigger, vaster pasture beyond the driveway.

"Linc told your dad he bought a hundred head of those Dutch Belted Cattle because they reminded Rachel of Oreo cookies." Grace pointed towards the oddly coloured cattle.

I'm telling you, loaded.

Rachel must have been Slocum's daughter. I remembered him bragging to Wyatt once back in the summer about buying horses for his two kids, Ryan and Rachel.

Driving further along, I watched a group of Shetland ponies scamper along the fence, eager at the arrival of the vehicles. It was like a western dreamland. Nearing the barn, red wood hitching posts were lined against the perfectly painted fence, boasting brass rings and the Gold Dust Ranch branding sign, a backwards _S_.

Outside the big, older (but obviously impeccably renovated, with Slocum's money) barn, was round pen, with high and closely spaced boards. Inside, a horse darted at the sound of the cars, though I could only catch a glimpse of it. In a half circle drive, I got my first good look at Slocum's mansion.

And a mansion it was. White with big pillars, it was huge. It didn't look as though it belonged on a ranch in northern Nevada at all. It sat upon a huge hill. Where it was surrounded by flat range for miles…

Slocum pulled up in front of the barn, and came puffing up to Grace's window.

"You're a horsewoman, Grace." He said. "Would you mind looking at something and telling me what you think?"

I was suddenly itching to see.

Slocum led us to the corral, where he entered.

I pulled myself onto the first rail to see over.

The horse was small and quick. Fine boned with slim legs, it couldn't have exceeded more than fourteen hands and an inch. When Slocum moved to catch the horse, it darted across the corral, flaming sorrel skin twitching, sleek, well-built body moving with the pivoting quickness only a quarter horse possessed.

The dust settled around the sorrel, and Slocum moved to catch her again, taking long strides, wobbling on his high-heeled cowboy boots.

The horse was off again, pressing against the rail, always staying ahead of him. when it passed me, it shied away, turning its head to me, nostrils flared and eyes wide. It was then I noticed the double _F _brand of the Forster's upon her hindquarters.

"Is she ours?" I heard Sam whisper to Grace.

I turned to Grace. She shook her head. "She used to be. Wyatt sold Kitty to Jed Kenworthy right after your accident.

Sam's hands clutched her stomach as if all the air had been driven from her chest.

After Slocum made a few more attempts, Grace saved him. "The marks on her haunches, Linc? Is that what you want me to see?"

As the mare, Kitty, changed directions, I saw the marks. They were the bite marks of another horse's teeth.

"Do you think they're the claw marks of a cougar?" Slocum called, slightly out of breath.

_What? _

They looked _nothing _like the claw marks of a cougar. Did he _honestly _know nothing about horses?

"Oh no." Grace shook her head. "They're bites from another horse."

Duh.

"That's what Kenworthy said, but it's strange." Slocum placed his hands on his hips.

So who was this Jed Kenworthy fellow?

"The mare was gone from the saddle horse pasture yesterday morning, then we heard her neighing from outside the front gate." He puffed his chest.

So…he thought this involved a cougar how?

"We did turn out range horses for a few years, and I've no doubt they ran with the mustangs. Maybe Kitty just took it into her head to try it again." Grace suggested.

"That doesn't explain the bites, now does it?" Slocum said, turning mocking. Obviously, this was all a set up. He had something in mind already, and wanted Grace to verify his theory.

She shrugged, indifferent. "I guess you'll never know."

"But I do." He declared.

Oh, for goodness sake, if you already knew, why did you drag us out here, play stupid, and then ask questions?

Really, this man got on my nerves.

And he wasn't finished. "Kenworthy found strange prints, _unshod _prints, in the flower beds along the road." He laughed.

So, how did he know they were strange prints? Did he know that print of every single one of his horses here by heart?

Then he turned to Sam. "The Phantom came here and tried to steal her."

Of, for the love of-

"No he wasn't." Sam blurted. Then she added politely, "I'm sure you're mistaken, Mr Slocum."

Thank you.

"There are plenty of other stallions, mustangs, or loose horses out there that could have been in your flower bed." I pointed out with a raised eyebrow. I couldn't believe how low his intelligence levels were. "And unless you know what the Phantom's hoof prints look like…"

And if he did, he was a real, obsessive weirdo.

"I tend to agree, Linc." Grace folded her hands. "I've lived here all my life. In sixty five years, we've never had a wild horse near the house, unless we roped him and brought him in."

Slocum was annoyed. "I hate to contradict a lady, but I know for a fact that white stud's been on River Bend property.

Okay, firstly?

He wasn't white. He was grey.

Secondly?

He knew the Phantom had been on River Bend property, and Sam had told me he only came at night.

What a weird creeper.

Grace started towards the Buick/Boat, lips pressed together. She didn't like the thought of Slocum's spying in the least.

At the car, we stopped, Slocum right behind us.

"If you're talking about the grey mustang, I don't think he's been any closer than the river. Am I right, Samantha?" Grace spoke quietly.

Sam's jaw was tight. "Absolutely."

"Well, we'll see. We'll certainly see." Slocum nodded exactly four times. "I've got some expensive livestock on this ranch. My herd of Shetlands, Quarter Horses, a couple of thoroughbreds, a Saddlebred, and a dressage horse, just to name a few." He took a big breath, as though it tired him explaining to little people like us how expensive his horses and his ranch were.

"Kitty's a good cow horse. You're lucky she found her way back." Grace said. "I know she was always one of Wyatt's favourites."

Slocum waved off the notion of Kitty. "I've got a blue blooded Appaloosa filly on her way here from Florida, so I need to be extra watchful."

I had said Gold Dust was frivolous. Why he needed a racing Appaloosa on a working ranch…

"If a wild horse trespasses on my property, especially if he's trying to steal my mares, I'll get him declared a nuisance. You're a smart girl, Samantha, you know what that is. A trouble maker."

Of course. A synonym for nuisance was troublemaker. It wasn't that difficult to wrap your head around.

Slocum stared down at Sam. "Once that's done, BLM has to catch him."

If he could prove it was the Phantom.

Sam looked stricken. "And relocate him."

"You might want to check your facts, little lady. BLM's short of funds right now. They can't be relocating nuisance animals or keeping them locked up and eating at government expense."

"BLM _can _send that horse out of state, but that would be pretty pricey, too. No, when the animal's already proven unmanageable, there's only one financially sound solution. BLM can spend a nickel on a bullet and put that horse down."

I'd had enough.

"Mr Slocum." I said, leaning against the car door and stressing his name in my Texan accent. "_You _might want to check your facts. They won't put the horse down with a gun. If they missed, and didn't kill him instantly, the results would be disastrous. It would be illegal and inhumane. Besides, they wouldn't be able to get close enough to kill him instantly. They'd use a tranquilliser gun, and then humanly put him down with an overdose of sedative. That would result in a vet coming in, and all _that _would be pricey."

Slocum raised his eyebrows.

"No, I'd say that grey horse is pretty safe for now."

XxXxXx

**I hope nobody takes any offence to Darcy's comments and thoughts. She tends to say it like she thinks, and is a little…insensitive and rough around the edges at time. Don't mind her!**


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